On Wings Lost Love Flies
by The Munch
Summary: Linda has missed Near for quite some time... What happens when she takes matters into her own hands to find him? Will he be happy to see her? Or will love be lost?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there all! So this is another attempt at a multi-chaptered fic. I hope that all goes well and that you enjoy the story. ^^ That's really all I have to say for now on the matter... Other than that this is set during the Kira Case, before the SPK moved to Japan and stuff, but probably after Mello blew up his hideout. So now that that's been put out there... **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Death Note, Near, Linda, Kira, or any other Death Note characters in this story. They belong to the creators of the manga/anime, and I only hope I can do them them justice. I do, however, claim some right to the specific plot elements I come up with, as well as the OCs that may be needed to make appearances. That is all, thank you! **

**Enjoy the fic ^^**

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Linda had not been scared of Kira in the way many others had been. She was no criminal and u p until that point she had not done anything that could have been considered illegal or otherwise morally reprehensible. She had lived a good life, working on rising through the ranks of the artistic world to become a renowned artist. There was no reason for Linda to worry about Kira swooping down and delivering justice upon her. It most likely was not going to happen.

This was not to say that Kira did not strike fear deep into the young artist's heart. In fact, Linda was as terrified of Kira as any criminal waiting in prison could be. The fear, however, was not for her own sake, nor did she worry about losing her own life. It was those she cared about most that she worried about losing by Kira's judgment. While she was not one of those targeted by Kira, one person dear to her heart had become one of the involved. In fact, he was the main force that currently opposed the mass murder who people proclaimed a god. As much as Kira struck down criminals who stood in the way of his brand of justice, he also thought nothing of smiting those who decided to stand against him. It was in this ring that someone dear to her fell.

Near, the young boy she had known from Wammy's had no doubt grown up over the time since they had parted. Even in Wammy's their association with each other could hardly be called an intimate friendship or anything close. Despite this, and his seeming indifference to the people around him, she had admired him. The dedication to which he gave his various projects and creations had awed the art in her, as it was the same kind of dedication she hoped she instilled in her own artwork. The masterpieces he was able to create out of such simple items as matches, dice, or dominos could have turned some artists green with envy. Perhaps it was this artistic nature, even in his logical, analytical mind that had sparked her infatuation with him. It was what had caused her to race to whichever room he was working in and attempt to capture not only the work but all of the effort and patience that went into his works. Whether it was for him or simply for that which he created she was not sure, but she felt attracted.

Even if he had chanced, had become completely different and given up those works, she wanted to see him again. The attraction had not left when he had gone from Wammy's House to begin work with the SPK in America. Even though he had not seemed all that upset at the idea of leaving, he had at least saw fit to say good bye. It was with that, a simple good bye after their years together, that sealed her heart away, saving it for the white-haired boy who was now a young man. Most people who have told her she was foolish for doing so, that the successor to L would never care for her. Weren't matters of the heart largely up to things beyond the will power's control? It wasn't as if she was the only person waiting for someone to return or for the chance to go find them. Matt was doing the same, only for his best mate, Mello. Granted, people probably criticized him as well, but it was nice to know she wasn't alone. There were other people who had been left behind by those they cared about.

She also decided now was the time to go. She could not wait for the Kira case to be over. If Kira had already killed the great L, what was to say he would not conquer Near as well? Surely he would be just as merciless and ruthless in trying to get rid of an opposing force. It was highly unlikely Kira would not go after the person who had come onto the scene to replace the lost L…

The thought of never seeing him again threatened to make her heart break in two. It was not something she wanted to contemplate. It was this fear that prompted her to decide it was time to leave the nest. Wammy's had taken care of her when she had been abandoned by all else, nurtured her innate gifts until they had been truly unique, something she could live off of and create an identity around, and offered her a home even after a normal orphanage would have turned her out to chart her own course. They had made her into a renowned artist, and certainly she could go out and make her own way. Certainly her caretakers, teachers, and mentors would agree that they had equipped her with the skills necessary to go off on her own.

With this thought in mind, she began searching for her way out of Wammy's. She did not want to just leave. No, she needed a plan. She had to have some other motive, another reason to suddenly abandon her home. There was absolutely no way that she was going to let on her true reasons for leaving, even to her most intimate friends in the orphanage. It was far too embarrassing for her, an artist gaining her own fame and having a great deal of intelligence, to be running off to America in pursuit of some man who had left years earlier… Especially in pursuit of a man who had never even gave an inkling of indication he might feel any sense of friendship towards her. Going to the United States had to have some other value. Her search went on…

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Ah, Ms. Davenport, the work you sent us as a sample was exquisite. We have heard a great deal about you as well and are quite honored that you have chosen our gallery for your debut in the States," Mr. LeCroix, the owner of an art gallery, gushed over the phone a few weeks later. His gallery was located in New York City, the place where Linda had decided to begin her search for the SPK. When she had discovered that he was looking for more pieces to add to his next exhibition and sale, she had quickly sent samples of her work his way. She was glad he seemed to like them so much.

"That is wonderful, Mr. LeCroix. I am in the process of moving to New York. When I have finished the move, we could meet to discuss the pieces that will be exhibited in your gallery?" she responded, falling once more into a professional tone and attitude. She had been through this before in scheduling herself for exhibitions throughout England and the surrounding area. Lydia Davenport, the name she used for artistic purposes, had not become well known over night, after all. Exhibitions were part of the process. It just happened to be helpful that she was her own manager, and thus took such things into her own hands… It would certainly pay off.

"Yes, yes, of course. Now when will you be in the States officially? I would love to meet with you as soon as possible." The man sounded eager, and she wondered briefly how many artists of her caliber he had been fortunate enough to meet and show off in his gallery. Well, at least her somewhat selfish and foolish motives for contacting him and moving outward to American would be benefitting someone. If word got around, she hoped she could at least help boost this man's art gallery in atonement for the pain she might cause elsewhere.

"I will be in American within the week. Would a meeting on Friday be acceptable?"

"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. I will see you on Friday, then?" he answered without a moment's hesitance. She wondered if the day was actually open in his schedule, or if he would be rearranging it so that she fit into it. It stroked the ego to be thought of as that important. She could get used to this… Even if it wasn't her reason for coming.

"Sounds wonderful. We will speak again at a later time to discuss further details?"

"Yes, of course, Ms. Davenport. Au revoir for now," he said, sounding absolutely delighted.

"Good bye, Mr. LeCroix," she responded, and hung up the phone.

And with that, her journey to New York had begun.

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Hope you enjoyed! Please rate and review, it will inspire me greatly to continue!

--The Munch


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! ^^ Sorry this took so long to post... Once again I've had computer difficulties and my harddrive had to be replaced so's... everything I wrote was lost and I had to start over. I also don't have any way of typing this into a Word document on my computer at the moment, so I'll do it where I can. That's all the updates on Fire's life. **

**Well, I decided this would be a good chapter to intro some other chars who will prove important in this story, so I hope you enjoy. I'm quite pleased with how the Chapter turned out... **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Linda, Near, Roger, Gevanni, or any of the SPK members (though I wish I did). I also do not own the ENGLISH language (yeah, hyperStatic, that's for you). I do, however, own the idea for this fic as well as Mr. LeCroix (though I will admit his appearance was influenced by my dance teacher). **

**Without further ado... Enjoy! ^^**

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"Your pieces are exquisite, Ms. Davenport. Absolutely wonderful. Are they all for show?" Mr. LeCroix asked, nearly gushing once more.

"I suppose they could be," she responded, playing the part of the professional once more.

The two speakers were currently seated in an office over an art studio in the middle of the hustle and bustle of New York City. The art gallery was simple and for the moment most of the walls in its interior were blank. The upcoming exhibition and sale, however, would cause them soon to be filled with all kinds of artwork submitted and displayed by the talents which LeCroix had so chosen. The office, however, had quite a few pieces placed on the walls, perhaps gifts or purchases from previous artists who had worked with him. Other than these, however, the office was relatively empty except for the small desk and the chairs that were stationed at it, which betrayed that the bigger space had been a new purchase by the aspiring gallery owner.

Mr. LeCroix himself was a younger man, no older than his mid-thirties, if even that. His hair was cut rather short and was dyed to look a shade of silvery-white that only more painfully reminded Linda of what she was doing in New York in the first place. The glasses he wore had lenses in a semi-circular cut, which allowed chocolate brown eyes to peer out on the world over or through the lenses depending on his preference at the moment. Linda briefly wondered if the glasses were worn out of necessity or for the added artsy factor that they might give him among his peers. They might have contributed to the thought of him as an older gentleman, which she supposed was a good thing considering those he was trying to impress. It certainly gave him an air of maturity and knowledge, and it certainly fit in with the surroundings. Apart from this, he was tall even seated in his chair, with the wiry form of someone who did not see much physical activity but had the metabolism to keep them from gaining flab. The presence he gave off was warm and inviting, and Linda could only give thanks for that. There were far too many art critics and gallery owners in the world who appeared cold hearted and cruel. She was grateful that her choice seemed to have led her away from those for the time being.

"That would be wonderful. These should fetch a high price, and with you getting a considerable portion of the profit, they should be able to help you live quite comfortably for a while," he said, obviously still in the mode to rave about her paintings as well as give the encouragement that the paintings would indeed sell. Then again, that confidence might just be because he did not want her to leave and go elsewhere with her artwork.

"Yes, I suppose they would," she said, chuckling it off and ducking her head with a slight blush. She wasn't particularly embarrassed by the fact that he was complimenting her artwork. She was more embarrassed because the reason for their meeting was not because she really cared too much about the gallery and sale. The gallery and sale were only helpful devices in helping her be able to find Near. So, no matter how the paintings did, she would only truly be happy with her time in New York if she could get reacquainted with her long and seemingly lost friend… She pushed back a stray lock of her russet colored hair that had fallen into her eyes when she leaned forward and looked back up at the man.

"Anyhow, Miss Davenport, we will need to have all of the pieces you will be entering into the gallery here by a week from next Wednesday. If any are unsatisfactory, then we will let you know, though I highly doubt that will be the case. The gallery will open the following Monday and remain open at least through the week," Mr. LeCroix stated, cracking down on the business of the matter. She didn't doubt that if he had rescheduled anything for this meeting that he needed to be leaving soon. Which was fine with her, she would be ready for his gallery whenever he needed. As soon as her works were submitted, she could begin her true search in the States.

"That sounds quite reasonable, Mr. LeCroix. I will be ready by then most certainly," she responded, giving him a pleasant smile to further seal the deal. She had a feeling she'd be on her way soon.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, still bright and happy as ever. "Also, if you have any family or friends whom you would like to invite to the gallery, you are most welcome. It would be lovely to see the people who have no doubt aspired you to the great artist you are today," he added, smiling warmly. This caused a slight sigh to escape her lips.

"I'm afraid I do not have much of a family. I am an orphan, but I will certainly send invitations to those who would be likely to come," she responded, trying to give a slight smile. If only she felt that she could find Near in a week… if she could then she would invite him… But she highly doubted it. He was probably much too deep in cover and security for someone like her to be able to find him so quickly. That would be wishful thinking.

"Alright, Ms. Davenport, we shall see," he said, sighing in some form of sympathy for her sadness. "But that is all we have to discuss at the moment, and so I believe our meeting will come to an end," he said, nearly instantaneous in his jumping back into a rather cheery mood. She only wished she could be so quick to change emotions.

"Yes, Mr. LeCroix. Thank you for your time and I will see you again on Wednesday," she said, giving him one last grateful smile for the opportunity he was giving her. They shook hands, and once more she was on her way and off into the bustling streets of New York City. She would return back to the small hotel room that Wammy's was currently paying for, a gift from Roger who was grateful for all of her help with the younger children at Wammy's. There she would turn once more to her rudimentary skills as a hacker and information gather to try and find the whereabouts of the white haired young man who would not leave her mind…

-*-*-*-*-*-

"Gevanni, could you bring up the records of the Kira case dating back to a month before L's death?" a young man's voice, relatively emotionless in its delivery, requested.

"Yes, sir," the raven-haired man who must have been "Gevanni" responded with a nod before typing furiously on the keyboard in front of him to bring up the data requested of him. The data filled multiple screens at one time, but this did not seem to faze the person who had asked for it.

The white-haired young man was none other than the very Near that Linda was searching for. He looked no more than a child, but he was seventeen, just about the same age as the young woman who had travelled to New York to find him. He was unaware that Linda was here at the moment, as no one from Wammy's had been in contact with him in quite some time. He had occasional conversations with Roger, who was beginning to function in some role as an heir to Watari, but none of these had been any time recently. He had merely continued to plug on in the Kira case with the help of the three agents who remained in the SPK.

At that moment, the boy in question was sitting amidst numerous stacks of what appeared to be jewel CD cases. They were all stacked in towers, making an odd kind of city, or a monument to one, around him. It was almost as if he had built his own personal castle and barrier, a safety wall that made him more secure in the professional environment in which he was working. It seemed rather childish, for him to be sitting on the ground stacking cases when he was the greatest detective in the world, but the agents had learned not to question his odd habits.

He was reading through the data when there was a familiar beeping that emanated from the speakers hooked up to one of the monitors in the control room. The blonde man sitting at said monitor turned to face Near.

"Near, Roger is on the phone and wishes to speak with you. Can I put him through?" he asked, his tone showing the seriousness with which he performed his tasks.

"Yes, you may, Rester," he responded, not looking up from the case he was currently stacking to begin yet another tower of cases. There was another beeping noise as Rester put Roger through onto the speaker phone so Near could speak with him.

"Hello, Roger. What business did you wish to discuss?" Near asked, still stacking with little acknowledgement that he was carrying on a conversation with another life form.

"Hello, Near. I saw it fit to inform you that Linda is currently in New York. She has been accepted into an art gallery in the city. I felt that you would like to know that she was there, and will be for some time. We also entreat that you keep an eye out on he…"

"Roger, I'm sure that Linda can take care of herself. I will, however, keep an eye out for her. Thank you for the information," he responded, cutting off the end of Roger's statement.

"Thank you, Near. That is all," he said, the old man sounding relieved that Linda was in safe hands.

"You are welcome. Good bye, Roger," Near said and terminated the call.

"So, Linda is in New York..," he mused aloud, sounding at least vaguely amused by the information. A slight smile ghosted across his face in response, unnoticed to those who sat in the room.

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**There ya go!!! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! ^^ I hope to have another one up soon, and I'll try to update at least once a week. **

**Please Rate and Review! The more I get the more likely I am to update! And thanks to all who have favorited/alerted/reviewed thus far, it really means a lot! **

**-Fire (The Munch) **


	3. Chapter 3

**I know, I know. I've been horrible about this Long story short, a few months ago I was working on this chapter and got sick. My muse for Mello died, and the Chapter was stuck at a screeching halt. I've just now been able to finish this Chapter... I hope to update more frequently now, so enjoy ^^ And I hope I did Mello justice in this. Please let me know so I can plot out the storyline's progression further! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from said anime, or the city of New York, etc. Wish I did, but alas, can't have everything we want? **

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It was a Saturday in New York, and as usual there was a lot going on. Still adjusting to the new environment, it seemed like the chaos of Wammy's House multiplied by one thousand to Linda. There were people everywhere, all kinds and ages, all doing something different. It was the first time since she had come to New York that she felt her resolve cracking on the idea of being able to find Near in her time here. With the number of people located here, and the number of things going on, she was not sure how anyone could ever find anything they were looking for, anyone. Especially when she wasn't even sure if he was in New York, or what he even looked like in the years that had passed since their last meeting. She was fumbling blindly through a sea of people with no help or guidance.

Trying to quell the despair that had threatened to overwhelm her, she had gone in search of something to paint. It had always been a good escape from reality before, allowing her to leave her emotions behind for a time. She needed the escape now, for the despair to go away so she could remain focused on her goal. Thus, she had set up her art easel in Central Park, a marvelous place to gain inspiration. Maybe if this painting was good enough she would consider entering it in the gallery. She wasn't sure if Mr. LeCroix would like scenes from Central Park, as she was sure there would be many, but she would try. Anything she could get in would be good, as the more money she made the longer she could stay and look. Trying to get all thoughts out of her mind on these subjects, she delved into the artwork more fully.

She had been painting for quite some time when she noticed someone different had entered the scene she had been depicting. It wasn't so much that someone was new, as people had been entering and leaving the parameters of her scene all day, but that there was a familiar quality about them. The young man in question was about her age, with blonde hair that hung raggedly to his shoulders. Despite the sun, which could cause heat to build up, he was wearing all black, including a black jacket with a fur-trimmed hood. The scowl he wore caused people to stay away from him. Linda was intrigued, however, by the familiarity before it hit her. Mello? What was he doing here? He had left Wammy's to pursue Kira shortly after learning of L's death, and she was pretty sure Kira was in Japan, nowhere near the States. What could Mello want with New York? She stood up abandoning the painting for the moment to head over to the young man she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Mello?" she asked, causing the young man to whirl about and face her furiously.

"Well it's certainly a surprise to see you. You should be careful how you throw that name around," he growled.

Linda was surprised by how much he had changed since she had last seen him, packing his bags furiously to leave Wammy's House. She had believed he would go off to find a rule to go after Kira himself, but whatever work he had been doing appeared to be dangerous in an entirely different fashion. He had a large scar across the left side of his face, which definitely had not been there before. It was hard not to remember something as big, and looking as painful as the scar that was there. It also led her to vaguely wonder what other scars the young man might have, concealed under his jacket or other articles of clothing, and what had caused them. Whatever it was, it seemed rather dangerous.

"I know, names are dangerous anymore," she responded, ducking her head, "But what are you doing in New York? I'd think you…"

"I could ask you the same thing," he interrupted, chuckling. "You never appeared to have any desire to leave that institution back then. You were quite content to stay put."

She sighed, eyes still intently focused on the ground. Mello could be helpful, but at the same time she knew that his rivalry with Near could cause a problem. It had been part of the reason he had left Wammy's House. It was for this reason she debated telling him her intentions for being there. And he wasn't answering any questions either, so it wasn't as if she had to feel obligated to tell him.

"I got asked to be part of an art gallery here, and I thought it would be a good opportunity," she settled on. It wasn't a complete lie after all.

"If you think that you could pull that bullshit on me than you've forgotten way too much about our time at Wammy's," he responded in a tone that she couldn't tell if he was angry with her or simply joking. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he blasted through her defense.

"I'm…looking for someone?" she stated quietly, still looking down.

"Near?" he asked, this time sounding genuinely amused by the idea. "Why would you be looking for that white-haired twit?"

"Just because you have problems with him does not make him a twit," Linda retorted, looking up at him with a slight glare. As she looked, she wasn't quite sure how he would respond. He fixed her with a venomous glare, obviously not about to be intimidated by her. Finally, his facial expression turned smug, smirking at her.

"So, you are looking for him," he said, watching her knowingly, smirking all the while.

"And what if I am?" she asked, tone slightly demanding as she tried to put some distance between them and the topic that they were projected toward. She would not aid it along by sounding the love-struck fool.

"I always figured you had some sort of weird crush on him," he said, amusement lacing his voice. "Never thought you'd be the one to take it this far."

"It's not the only reason I'm here, for you information," she responded, feeling an odd surge of defiance at being pegged like this by Mello. "Not everyone's as obsessive and single-minded as you."

This caused the blonde to break out in a harsh laugh, one clearly meant in mocking her. She felt her cheeks flush once more, but this time it was more from anger than any kind of humiliation. But, deep down, she knew it stemmed from the dislike at how easily he could read her. Linda wasn't a very secretive person normally, but Mello's tendency to use information to his own benefit made her uncomfortable with him knowing her intentions for being here. Who knew how he would use it?

"Really now? The great English artist, Leila Davenport, who's never come overseas just suddenly decides that now would be a good time to come to the States and appear in a gallery not nearly up to her caliber?" he asked with a pointed glace at her. "And that really has nothing to do with the fact that a man that she tried so desperately to be friends with since they met is known to be operating here? Sounds pretty fishy if you ask me."

The red that spread across her face now was from some other emotion, perhaps even a mixture of both emotions that normally produced the kind of reaction. Why couldn't Mello just let it go? It wasn't as if she could help him in any way. It was only proving to be very annoying. She wasn't even sure how to respond to that, and it infuriated her.

"Regardless, that doesn't explain what you're doing here," she said, figuring that dismissing his accusation completely was the only way to leave the subject without any more awkwardness ensuing. She was curious about what Mello was doing here as well.

"Let's just say I'm looking for someone, too," Mello responded with a nonchalant shrug.

"Near?" Linda asked, coming to the same conclusion. Who else would he be looking for? Kira was in Japan, and she doubted there was anyone else in New York who would be of interest to Mello… Near was the only one who made logical sense.

"The little bastard's awfully popular, isn't he?" Mello smirked in response. Linda gave him her own smirk, feeling victorious at figuring out his intentions.

"What do you need him for? Going to confess your love to him?" she asked, a slight jeer to her voice. Served him right for making comments of that nature towards her. She wasn't the most fiery-tempered young woman, but that didn't make her devoid of temper.

"Wouldn't you love that?" he sneered in response, though his venomous glare said more than his response did. She had struck a nerve with him, that much was clear. "But that's not it. Little bastard's got something of mine and I've come to take it back," he growled.

"What would that be? What could Near possibly have that is yours? And if he does you can't possibly lay claim, as you left Wammy's with no real good bye," Linda responded, her curiosity getting the better of her, as well as pointedly reminding him that he had vanished.

"That's none of your business now, is it?" he growled, before taking out his cell phone, looking at the time, and snapping it shut to put back in his pocket. "And I have to go anyway. Going to be late if I don't hurry up and get moving. See ya, Linda," he responded, giving her a somewhat casual and dismissive wave with the statement.

"Well that's abrupt..," she muttered. "Bye then, Mello." She was not pleased at him cutting off the conversation, but she couldn't exactly force him to stay. She didn't have the physical strength in the least… She only hoped he wasn't saying 'see ya' to get her off his back.

"Here, let me promise you this. If I find out anything about Near's whereabouts and I run into you again, I'll tell you what I know. Okay? Now I really gotta go," he said, and with that he was off and moving away through Central Park.

Linda sighed, watching him go. She wasn't sure if she'd even see him again, or if he had just said that to get her off his back so he could leave. For now, however, she would just have to continue on as she had… Hopefully something would come her way.

She walked over to sit down and continue her painting, trying to leave the frustrating and confusing thoughts that Mello had brought forth out of her mind.

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**Hope you enjoyed ^^ Please Rate and Review! **


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